Beginning
by TraceAce
Summary: You know Jonathan and Andrew were friends (well, at least before Andrew stabbed him), but how did they meet?


Beginnings

By TraceAce

**A/N:** On the timeline of episodes, this fic fits right between the episodes "Earshot" and "The Prom", season three.

            There were a couple times Jonathan wished he had just shot himself instead of handing over his gun to Buffy. His lunch period was one such time, where his ability to blend in with the crowds and hide in dark corners failed him. There was no way around the strategically placed tables of jocks and cheerleaders and the usual popular-and-mean types; they seemed to be blocking every escape from their gaze to the point Jonathan had no choice but to pass by at least one of them. They always saw him. It didn't matter who he walked by, he seemed to somehow gravitate them and their taunts to him.

            "Hey, you little freak!" was the usual shout, followed by some action that was uncalled for and usually extremely embarrassing. They varied the second part a lot, because they wanted to make sure they kept it funny enough for the whole lunch area to laugh at his expense.

            It was a brownie that time around. He had passed by a table full of football players. When he got a good distance from them without incident and was just about to inwardly celebrate a taunt-free day, something smacked him in the back of the head. It didn't hurt, but it was enough for him to turn around and look at the group. They were laughing and high-fiving each other as if they had just accomplished some momentous goal. Crumbled brownie pieces were all over the ground near him. He just sighed to himself and went back to walking, ignoring their continuing snickering and laughing.

            He had been so caught up in quietly fuming that he hadn't noticed the book bag in his line of walking until it was too late. He collided right into it and a second later he found himself smashing into the ground. The tray of food he had been carrying went flying out of his hands and scattered all over the already dirty floor. A second of silence erupted into hysterical laughter. Jonathan felt his face turn beet red; if there was ever a moment to want to curl up and die afterward…

            "Oh my god, I'm so sorry!"

            Jonathan rubbed his sore nose and looked up to find a skinny blonde-haired kid standing over him, frowning in concern. Though he definitely had never met him before, he was so happy to hear something other than an insult or a loud laughing fit that he couldn't find it in him to care. The boy offered a hand. He hesitated taking it, his paranoid mind automatically thinking the worse of things.

            There were no ulterior motives to be seen. The boy just helped him up and offered another sympathetic look. Jonathan brushed himself off just as the laughing died down and people went on to better subjects. He lifted his eyes to meet the guy's worried gaze. 

            "It's alright," he managed to say, still blushing heavily.

            "N-no, it's my fault. Are you okay?"

            For the first time possibly ever in a lunch period (or possibly in school), Jonathan actually smiled. "…Um, no, really, I'm fine." He glanced at his food and sighed. With no more money, it didn't seem like he would be eating until a whole lot later. Stepping over some fallen mashed potatoes, he started to continue his walk to his empty table.

            "H-hey, wait!"

            Jonathan turned his head to see the kid still looking at him. "Yeah?"

            "Well, uh, why don't you sit with me? You don't have to, o-of course, but…" He scratched the back of his messy blonde hair nervously. "It's the least I can do. You can have some of my lunch."

            Jonathan stared at him in surprise and replied, bashfully, "…Well, if you want me to," He couldn't say no to an offer of actually sitting with someone, even if it _was _some random stranger. He walked over and took a seat next to him, slinging his own backpack off and letting it slide off his arm to the ground. The blonde kid literally beamed a smile at him and sat down himself.

            "My name is Andrew. Andrew Wells." 

            "I'm—"

            "Oh, I know who you are. Jonathan, right?" he tilted his head. "I heard about that…thing. You know, what you were…suspended for."

            For a moment, Jonathan felt a dull panic rise up in him. He thought that he had just fallen for yet another set up to be taunted again. He waited for some kind of rude comment about his suicide attempt. Andrew, however, had apparently dropped it, his attention instead on pulling out the food from the little brown lunch bag he had in front of him that had his name on it.

            "Yeah, that's right," he confirmed, nodding uneasily. "It's nice to meet you, I guess."

            "Don't worry, they think I'm weird too. Well, mostly because of my brother I think," he took out his sandwich from its plastic wrap. "Do you know Tucker? I think he's in your grade."

            "Tucker?" he paused, thinking. The name was familiar, at least. He zeroed in on why a second later. "Oh! Yeah, he's—he's that guy that's behind me in my English class. He's your brother?"

            Andrew nodded, taking a bite of the sandwich. "Yeah. Most people think he's strange, from what I heard. And then they find out I'm his brother and think I'm weird too. I don't see him much anymore. He's been really busy doing something, though he hasn't told me what. Hey, do you want some?"

            Jonathan looked over and found Andrew was offering his sandwich. "…You sure?"

             "I'm not that hungry anyhow," he broke it in half, waving it a bit in front of him. "Go ahead, take it." 

            He finally took it and shot him a grateful grin. Peering at the middle, he could see the mix of jelly and peanut butter oozing out from between the bread. "Thanks."

            "Mm-hmm," he answered, pressing a straw into a juice box he produced from his lunch bag. He sat back and sipped on it as Jonathan took a bite. "So, um, do you like Star Trek?"

            "I could do the Vulcan greeting when I was three," To prove it, he made the sign, the well-known 'V' between his fingers forming.

            "Really?! That's so cool! It took me forever to get it right," he explained, doing it himself. "Can do it now though."

            "The best one was the original one," Jonathan declared.

            "Well that goes without saying, but _The Next Generation_ wasn't so bad," Andrew shrugged. "Patrick Stewart was awesome."

            "Still not as good as Shatner, though, but yeah, he was pretty cool."

            "_Voyager_ was a joke though," he shook his head, scowling. "A complete disappointment, if you ask me."

            "Roddenbury was smoking crack when he wrote the plot to that series," Jonathan made a face.

            "Had to be," Andrew nodded. They looked at each other and randomly burst out laughing.

            After they had calmed down, Jonathan sat back, realizing he had never felt so comfortable around anyone ever. "Hey, listen, um…" he felt himself turn red because he usually never had the courage to be really forward. "…I have the first series on DVD. All the seasons, too. Want to come over and watch them?"

             Andrew raised a surprised brow and for a minute he thought it had been wrong for him to offer. They had only just met. Andrew probably thought he was weird for asking it. Jonathan even thought he was himself, in retrospect. "…Really? Wow, that's awesome! I'd love to! I'm not busy tomorrow…"

            "…Yeah? Well, I'm not either. Here, lemme write down my address—" he fumbled in his book bag for a piece of paper. He pulled one out of his notebook and scribbled it down along with his number. He looked at the clock and noted the time with a frown. "Look, I have to go grab my assignment for a class. I'll talk to you later, okay?"

            Andrew smiled at him and waved. "Bye, Jonathan. And…if you want, you can sit with me tomorrow. I wouldn't mind."

            "That'd be…cool. I will. C-ya," he smiled and waved back.

            After grabbing his pack he left towards the exit to the lunchroom, feeling rather upbeat and happy. It really seemed that he had found someone that wasn't going to stab him in the back like all his other so-called friends had.


End file.
